


A Gift

by Arkanna



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkanna/pseuds/Arkanna
Summary: The best gifts are often unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Legacy of Kain or any of its characters. Only Lea is mine.

Kain stood, legs spread, arms crossed, a snarl twisting his lips. His very stance vibrated with irritation. He glared around the room, but everything seemed in order. He was the only one there and yet his scowl deepened as he regarded the small vivid red box sitting upon his throne.

Approaching cautiously, Kain noted that it was actually wrapped in blood red silk. After a quick inspection, he delicately picked up the small box. The silk wrapping came away with a gentle tug to reveal an intricately inlaid wooden box. The lid was decorated with his symbol in a deep jet black set against a fine silvery wood. The sides seemed to be randomly inlaid with woods in all shades of silver and gray with just the slightest hints of some rosy tone.

Humming, Kain lifted the lid. The inside was covered in a fine deep scarlet velvet and nestled carefully within it's folds was a vial. The liquid inside thick and nearly black. After a moment's consideration, he took the box and retired to his rooms.

Kain sat in his favorite chair. The Reaver leaned against the wall within easy reach and seemed to glow faintly in the dimly lit room. He regarded the vial curiously, easily sensing the magics laid upon it. Finally, he reached into the box and withdrew the vial.

It seemed innocent enough and after several minutes, he opened it. Nothing happened, but the scent of the liquid caught his attention and he inhaled deeply. It smelled of a finely aged blood-wine. After swirling the tip of a talon in the liquid, he cautiously tasted it and a rare smile graced his lips. It WAS a finely aged blood-wine.

The spells laid upon the vial allowed it to hold much more wine than was possible and preserved the contents from spoiling. They were simple spells already known to Kain and he wondered, as he retrieved a goblet from a nearby table, who could have sent him such a gift.

Even after pouring a generous portion of wine into his goblet, the vial was still full and he carefully replaced the stopper. He swirled the wine first, observing it, then inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich heady scent. Finally, he took his first sip and smiled. The quality was unmistakable and the care that had gone into the fermenting of the wine spoke of a highly skilled craftsman. Kain took another sip as he leaned back in his chair.

He noticed a small scrap of paper peeking out of a fold in the velvet and he plucked it free. It was simply written in a very crisp careful hand and left him a bit puzzled.

_No one should be forgotten._

Kain thought for a while then returned the note to the box and set the box carefully on a nearby table so that he could enjoy his wine.

After a few months had passed, Kain forgot the note and the puzzle of who sent the box as other much more important matters occupied his time. So it was with great surprise that one day he found another carefully wrapped box occupying his throne. He took it thoughtfully and after pulling the silk free, discovered another box of similar design, perhaps a little more skillfully crafted. It also held a vial of blood-wine and a similar note. The writing was a little more flowing, as if the one writing it felt more comfortable setting quill to paper.

As he sat, taking a moment to enjoy his gift, a sudden thought occurred to him. The first box had appeared exactly a year ago. Kain regarded the box and the note again but there were no hints as to who might have left it.

The arrival of a mystery gift became a yearly thing and one which he came to greatly anticipate. Kain had even gone through the trouble of observing his throne carefully in an attempt to see who was leaving the gifts. Somehow there was always a moment of distraction and when he looked back, the box was there waiting for him.

The ritual continued for many years and though he had sought to discover his benefactor, he was never successful.

He finally sat in his throne on the day of the twentieth year and waited all day, but the box did not appear. He wondered, as the sun set, why, what had changed. A small sound brought his focus sharply across the room.

A woman was slowly approaching. She was simply dressed, perhaps in her early forties, not old and still fair of face. What caught his attention was the small red box she held.

“Lord Kain,” she spoke quietly as she approached, then bowed slightly before extending the box. It was apparent that she suffered from some old injury as she walked stiffly with a slight limp.

He narrowed his eyes as he regarded her carefully. Though she clearly knew who, and therefore what he was, she was not afraid.

 “Who are you?” he demanded.

 “No one really,” she said with a smile, “everyone calls me Lea.”

“How did you come by that box?” there was a slight growl to his voice as he continued to glare at her.

 “The box,” she said, “I am afraid it will be the last.” She was suddenly taken by a deep rattling cough that brought her to her knees, gasping for breath.

 Kain moved without thinking and was at her side. He helped her to her feet and realized, when he touched her, how thin and frail she was.

 “The last,” he said when she had stopped shaking.

 “Yes. I have been making them for you all these years but I am afraid fate has decreed that I shall not live much longer.”

 Another fit of coughing shook her and Kain swept her up and deposited her on his throne. She calmed after a moment.

 “I beg your pardon, My Lord,” she said with a much more raspy voice attempting to stand.

 A sharply taloned hand on her shoulder restrained her.

 “Why,” he growled.

 “Years ago, my village was destroyed during the great flood in the eastern lands. All my family, friends, neighbors, everyone was gone in an instant. I survived by clinging to a thin tree. It was eventually uprooted and carried along by the raging torrent. When I awoke, I found myself in a cave. A strange woman with golden eyes was watching over me. She had splinted my broken leg. She stared at me, then handed me a small box and bid me open it. Inside was a sphere glowing a pale blue. _“No one should be forgotten”_ she said quietly. _“You share a day with another that is often forgotten.”_ It wasn't until she had helped me out of the cave and to the valley floor that she continued, _“the sphere will begin to glow three days before this special day.”_ The woman looked at me carefully before she finished. _“Even Lord Kain deserves to be remembered on this one day.”_ I glanced down at the sphere but when I looked back up, she was gone. I made my way to a small village. They took me in and cared for me. It wasn't until after I had been there a while that I understood.”

 She paused, taking a few ragged breaths. “I was alone. No one knew me and though they helped me, there was no one to really care. I thought about what the woman had said and decided that I would make these boxes and give them to you. My father had been a master carpenter and maker of fine furniture. Oft I watched him finely inlay mother of pearl and silver and gold into commissioned pieces. My mother was a dressmaker and I had apprenticed to her the year of the flood. I knew I could make the boxes but I needed more. It took a long time to seek out one who was willing to teach me to make blood-wine and even longer to find someone willing to teach me to spell the vials. That is the only magic I have ever learned. Anything more complicated is beyond me. I spent a year making the box and wine. It took nearly that long for my injuries to fully heal so I had the time. When the sphere began to glow, I became frantic. I did not know how to get the box to you secretly. By chance I happened upon an elderly man willing to help me.”

 She held up her hand to display two small metal disks. Kain immediately recognized the spell upon them.

 “Teleportation,” he said.

 Lea nodded, “all I needed to do was place one disk somewhere near your throne and set the box on the other. A single word activated the spell and sent the box to you.”

 “You were the distraction,” he glared at her but with less irritation.

 “Yes,” she chuckled, “I stayed and watched after the third or fourth year. I found I enjoyed the look on your face when the box appeared. I finally understood what the woman meant. I know, now, who she was as well,” she suddenly gasped for breath.

 Kain held her steady but noticed the color seemed to be draining from her and that her heart beat in an odd staccato rhythm.

 “Who was she,” Kain asked quietly, clearly intrigued by her story.

 “The Seer,” she whispered.

 Kain was surprised, “the . . . Seer?”

 Lea nodded, “She was the one to tell me that I will not live to see another year.”

 Lea feebly gestured towards the box.

 Kain glanced at her then opened it slowly. The outside was as all the others but the inside made him take a sharp breath. The velvet was dyed so darkly red it was nearly black and seemed to shimmer. There were three vials tucked neatly into the box and what appeared to be a letter. He looked up at her curiously.

 “All the blood-wine I had left. The equivalent of three full magnums of wine. The letter, just in case I died before this day, I wanted you to know,” she started gasping again and Kain found himself holding her much more gently than he might have.

 After a few minutes, she calmed again. “The boxes have a secret when they are stacked together,” she smiled softly, her lips slightly tinged blue. She coughed again and there was blood on her hand.

 Kain recognized the scent immediately, “It's your blood!” he said in surprise.

 “No one else would volunteer,” there was a slight glint in her eyes at that.

He stood and stared, regarding her closely, “Why did you do this all these years?”

 Lea glance up at him. She couldn't seem to focus properly but smiled in his general direction, “I found I enjoyed making another happy. I know what it's like to be forgotten as I have no one to remember me.”

 That caught him by surprise and a sudden thought occurred to him. There was an odd pulse from the Reaver and he noticed it seemed to glow a little more brightly as if agreeing with his thoughts, though Kain was fairly certain that Raziel could not hear them.

 “You have no one?” he asked.

 She shook her head, “None wanted me. My injures were great and I was unable to even bear children. It was lucky I survived were all the rest of my village was utterly destroyed.”

 He scowled a moment then nodded to himself, coming to a decision.

 “I would remember you. Would you accept a gift from me?”

 “All gifts are precious,” she whispered leaning weakly against the back of his throne, “especially when given from the heart,” her voice was a bare whisper.

 Kain was on her suddenly, sinking his fangs into her neck. There was no taint of disease to her blood and it was just as sweet as the blood-wine she made. She quickly stopped her struggling, her failing heart, the cause of her illness, stilled. Before the cold hand of death could take her, Kain began weaving the same necromatic magic around her that had breathed life into his other children.

 As he felt her soul finally settle into her body once more, he smiled down at her. The first fledgling he had created since his purification would have no taint of corruption.

 Her eyes flew open with a sudden gasp and she looked around in confusion before focusing on Kain.

 “S . . . Sire?” she whispered.

 “Happy birthday Lea,” he purred at the look of wonder and joy in her eyes.

 


End file.
